


I know a few things (but I still got a lot to learn)

by wordslinging



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, Getting Together, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Romance, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, but if I'M a virgin and YOU'RE a virgin who's flying the plane?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinging/pseuds/wordslinging
Summary: Nicolo's heart beats against his ribs like a trapped bird as he presses his mouth to Yusuf's. He's never kissed anyone before, and at first he's afraid that he'll do something wrong, that his inexperience will be painfully obvious. Then Yusuf brings one hand up to cup Nicolo's face, leaning in to kiss him back, and Nicolo forgets to be afraid of anything.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 17
Kudos: 237
Collections: Old Guard Server Exchange





	I know a few things (but I still got a lot to learn)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azephirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/gifts).



Their acquaintance began with a battle, so it is perhaps unsurprising that their first kiss begins with a fight.

They’ve made camp early, something they do often when they have no pressing need to be anywhere--they're traveling now with no goal but to put Jerusalem and their old lives behind them, to try to make sense of their new life together and the shared dreams they keep having. Today the particular reason for the early stop is to spar while they still have daylight, hand-to-hand as most of their bouts have been lately. With sword and scimitar they’re so evenly matched that they can wear themselves out with no clear winner, but unarmed Yusuf still has the advantage; light on his feet and able to anticipate Nicolo’s moves more easily than Nicolo can his. 

Nicolo is determined to close the gap in their skill, and today he holds himself back when he wants to rush in, keeps his defenses up and watches Yusuf’s every move closely. 

He sees an opening and lunges, but Yusuf catches him by the arm. Rather than try to break away, Nicolo pivots and moves in close, leaving Yusuf no room to swing at him. From there he could throw an elbow or a knee, try to trip his opponent or throw him off balance.

Only instead of doing any of those things, Nicolo finds himself pressed up against Yusuf with his wrist held in a strong grip and their faces inches from each other. Nicolo’s heart pounds, and he feels an answering beat in Yusuf’s chest, strong and sure.

Leaning in is not a conscious decision; Yusuf draws him like gravity, Nicolo helpless against the pull. He catches himself a breath away from bringing their lips together and looks up, meeting Yusuf’s eyes in an unspoken question.

They've had to learn how to communicate, not just with words, but how to read each other's moods and gestures and expressions. They are more alike than Nicolo's past self, blinded by the hate he'd been taught, could have dreamed, but that does not mean they always understand each other.

In this, though, understanding comes easily. Yusuf's dark eyes are warm, crinkling at the edges, and there's a clear invitation in the way his lips part and his head tilts to the side just a little. 

Nicolo's heart beats against his ribs like a trapped bird as he presses his mouth to Yusuf's. He's never kissed anyone before, and at first he's afraid that he'll do something wrong, that his inexperience will be painfully obvious. Then Yusuf brings one hand up to cup Nicolo's face, leaning in to kiss him back, and Nicolo forgets to be afraid of anything.

***

The first time they sleep in each other’s arms, they’re on a hillside with the Mediterranean spread out before them, its sound a constant backdrop to their days and nights. Nicolo sees to the horses, leaving them to graze beneath a tree, and when he gets back to where Yusuf is setting up camp he’s greeted with a kiss.

They kiss all the time now; swift kisses good night and good morning, gentle kisses to comfort or reassure, deep, searching kisses as they sit and talk late into the night, pressing ever closer as their fire burns low. Now that kissing Yusuf is an option, Nicolo finds himself hard-pressed to focus on doing anything else.

Their food is running low, so while Yusuf builds a fire, Nicolo takes his crossbow and goes looking for game. They sit side-by-side as they eat, in companionable silence until Yusuf touches Nicolo’s knee and says, softly, “When we sleep tonight, I would like very much to hold you.”

Nicolo’s breath stutters in his throat. They’ve gone from sleeping on opposite sides of the fire, still wary, to laying their bedrolls alongside each other, mere feet apart. But that last stretch of distance has remained, and no matter how late into the night they’ve kissed or how close they’ve held each other as they did it, they’ve retreated back to their own separate spaces to sleep. 

Yusuf is looking at him, his hand still light on Nicolo’s knee and his brow gently furrowed in question, and Nicolo grips Yusuf’s hand with his own and finds his voice. 

“Yes,” he says, and watches joy chase the brief shadow of doubt from Yusuf’s face. “Yes, I would like that.”

It’s a simple enough thing, to lay their blankets out so close they overlap. Simple, too, when Nicolo is done banking the fire, to sink into Yusuf’s waiting arms and kiss him, then tuck his head down to rest on his shoulder, winding his own arms about Yusuf's waist. 

It is not simple, he discovers ruefully, to fall asleep tangled up with another when you aren’t used to it. 

When Nicolo was young, he and his siblings would pile together in one bed, or on the hearth rug like puppies, and sleep soundly. When it grew harder to keep them all fed, his parents sent his oldest brother to an apprenticeship and him to the church, and Nicolo had learned to sleep alone on his thin straw pallet. When he went to war, he would sometimes sleep shoulder-to-shoulder with his brothers in arms, packed tight out of necessity, but even then he was self-contained, folding his broad-shouldered frame into the smallest amount of space he could take up. Yusuf's arms are a more inviting place to sleep than any he's known in years, and yet Nicolo finds himself restless, unable to get comfortable enough to drift off.

“Sorry,” he mumbles when his shifting wakes Yusuf for the second time that night. 

“It’s all right,” Yusuf says, voice still thick with sleep as he rests his hand on Nicolo’s hip. “Do you want to go back to how we slept before?”

“No,” Nicolo says at once, tightening the arm he has around Yusuf’s middle. “But I don’t want to be the reason neither of us gets a good night’s rest, either.”

Even half-asleep, woken in the dead of night, Yusuf gives him a smile that makes Nicolo's stomach swoop dizzily. “If I had to choose between a night’s rest and you in my arms…but come, let's see if we can't find a way to do both."

It takes several shifts in position before they settle with both of them on their sides, Nicolo's back to Yusuf's front. Yusuf drapes an arm over Nicolo, his hand resting gently on Nicolo's wrist, and nuzzles the back of his neck. "How's this?"

Nicolo pillows his head on one arm and nestles back into the curve of Yusuf's body, feeling Yusuf's heartbeat against his back. "Good," he says, and it's the last thing either of them say before sleep claims them both.

***

The first time they make love, they begin uncertainly, though not because either of them is lacking in eagerness.

As has become their habit, they’re entwined on their bedrolls, lost in the heady rush of kissing and touching each other. Nicolo has one hand twined in Yusuf’s curls and the other pressed flat between his shoulder blades, and Yusuf has an arm around Nicolo’s back and a hand up the front of his tunic, tracing the muscles of his stomach. 

Nicolo arches up into the touch, the movement bringing their lower bodies flush together. They’re both hard, and heat floods Nicolo’s face at feeling the proof of Yusuf’s desire against his thigh, at knowing Yusuf can feel his. 

“Please,” Nicolo gasps, without being certain what he’s asking for. 

He’d be the first to admit his idea of lovemaking is murky, a patchwork of talk heard from other boys when he was too young and naive to understand it, admonishments from his elders against the sins of the flesh, and the occasional obscene drawing scrawled in the margins of a text he’d been set to copy. There are acts he’s heard described or seen portrayed enough to have at least a rough sense of how they work, and the thought of doing any of those things with Yusuf fills him with a thrill that’s not fear, but a close enough cousin to make words fail him.

Yusuf presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, breath warm against Nicolo’s cheek as he murmurs, “What do you want? What can I do for you, Nico?”

Nicolo shakes his head uncertainly, hands moving restlessly over Yusuf’s back. “Anything. I don’t—I just— _please_.”

In answer, Yusuf does the one thing Nicolo’s sure he _doesn’t_ want, which is to sit back on his heels and take his hand out of Nicolo’s tunic. “You haven’t done this before?” 

He sounds...not necessarily surprised, but certainly as though he’d hoped it would be otherwise, and Nicolo’s face heats with embarrassment as he shakes his head again. 

“I’ve done nothing, with anyone.” Not _strictly_ true, but furtively touching himself when he’s had the time and privacy for it hardly seems to count. “My faith condemns it as sin.” 

Yusuf lowers himself to recline on one elbow beside Nicolo, quirking a brow at him. “It may be counterproductive to my wooing you to point this out, but I’ve seen you engage in quite a bit of behavior your faith condemns as sin.”

He keeps his tone light, and Nicolo is grateful for that, but still lowers his eyes guiltily. “I know. But not this.”

Yusuf brushes Nicolo’s hair back, fingertips lingering on the curve of his ear. “I don’t mean to tease you. Only I was hoping one of us had practical experience to go on here.”

Nicolo looks up at him, surprised. “You’ve never—?”

Yusuf gives a light shrug. "I never married," he says by way of explanation, and when Nicolo keeps looking at him, both his eyebrows rise this time. “Yours is not the only faith that prizes chastity, you know.” 

It’s Nicolo’s turn to reach out, cupping Yusuf’s face and brushing a thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. “I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just...you’re so beautiful, and you know so much more of the world than I.”

Yusuf covers Nicolo’s hand with his own and turns his head, kissing the center of Nicolo’s palm. “Well, knowing and doing are two different things. I have an idea of where to start.”

"As do I." Nicolo slides his hand around to the back of Yusuf's neck, drawing him down for a kiss. "I think we can find our way together."

They undress slowly, hands and mouths all over each other, until both of them are bare and Yusuf settles over Nicolo again. When their cocks rub together, skin on skin, it tears a ragged, desperate noise from Nicolo’s throat. He clutches at Yusuf, planting open-mouthed kisses against the place where his neck and shoulder meet, and Yusuf brings both arms around him, holding him tight. 

“Is this good?” Yusuf asks, face pressed into Nicolo’s hair, and Nicolo gasps out “Yes, _yes_ ,” and they rock together, holding each other tight. 

Pleasure builds in the pit of Nicolo’s stomach and coils in the base of his spine, more intense than any he’s ever felt. It’s too much, too big for his body to contain, but at the same time he never wants it to end. He can feel Yusuf’s breath against his ear growing frantic, the rhythm of his hips stuttering. 

They come within moments of each other, both of them crying out and shaking as wet warmth spreads between their bodies.

After they've cleaned up, they lie nestled close under a blanket. Yusuf rests his head on Nicolo's shoulder and Nicolo wraps an arm around him, fingers tracing patterns on Yusuf's skin.

"I thought it would be easier if one of us had done this before," Yusuf says, soft and contemplative. "But I'm glad we're each other's firsts. Glad we get to take this journey together."

Nicolo kisses his forehead and then rests his head gently against Yusuf's, closing his eyes. "So am I."

***

Some nights later, they make another early stop, this one by the banks of a broad stream. The water is cool and clear, the current gentle, and both of them strip and wade in with no hesitation. 

The last time they'd passed through a town with a decent market, Yusuf had bought a cake of soap--an indulgence, but one they both feel entitled to after weeks on the road without a proper bath. Standing waist-deep in the water, they pass the soap back and forth as they wash, occasionally holding onto each other’s arms for balance.

They're familiar with each other's bodies by now, but familiarity doesn't mean that Nicolo doesn't greedily drink in the sight of Yusuf bare in the sunlight, water running down his arms and chest. Yusuf's answering gaze doesn't fluster him as much as it would have once, but it still lights the same spark in the pit of his belly; one he has a far better idea what to do with now.

Since their first uncertain tryst, they've made love nearly every night unless they're too tired from the day's journey. Often they simply kiss and rut against each other before falling asleep, but they've also been exploring, finding out all the ways they can please each other. 

A few nights ago Nicolo had gone to his knees and taken Yusuf into his mouth. He’d felt awkward and clumsy; unsure what to do with his hands, embarrassed by the way Yusuf’s spend had leaked from the corners of his mouth when he couldn’t swallow the hot rush of it fast enough. But Yusuf had held Nicolo’s hair back from his face with one hand and used the other to trace the shape of Nicolo’s lips, stretched around his cock, had said _your perfect mouth, Nico_ just before he came undone, and afterward Nicolo had leaned his forehead against Yusuf’s thigh and stroked himself while Yusuf petted his head and told him how good he was.

They haven't spoken of what they might do tonight, but between the early stop and the bath, the air between them is thick with anticipation. Before they can get ahead of themselves, Yusuf wades over to where he left his pack by the water’s edge, pulling a small, sharp blade from its sheath. 

“Help me with this?” he asks Nicolo, gesturing to his face. “It’s hard to do right without a clear reflection.”

With Nicolo’s guidance, he trims his beard and mustache until they lie neat and close against his skin. When Yusuf is done, Nicolo takes the little blade and shaves his own patchy beard clean off. He ducks his head to wash away the last stray hairs and traces of soap, and when he surfaces Yusuf grabs him around the waist and pulls him close. Nicolo brings his hands to Yusuf's shoulders, expecting a kiss; when Yusuf instead rubs his beard all over Nicolo's newly-smooth face and neck, Nicolo lets out an undignified noise and pushes down on his shoulders, trying to duck him as penance.

They wrestle for a minute, splashing wildly in the stream, but it doesn't take long for things to go from playful to passionate. Yusuf catches Nicolo's mouth with his, still holding him around the waist, and Nicolo hooks an ankle around the back of Yusuf's calf, drawing him closer. They stay like that, kissing intently, until Yusuf slides his hand around to the small of Nicolo's back and tilts his head to speak in his ear.

"I bought oil as well, when I bought the soap," he whispers, then kisses the side of Nicolo's neck. "I could fuck you, or you me, whatever you like."

Nicolo's breath catches and stutters as Yusuf's teeth graze his throat. It's not the first time the idea has come up, and their explorations have gone as far as probing each other's entrances with spit-slick fingers. So far, Nicolo has still felt the urge to shy away from the intrusion, to protest it as something dirty. At the same time, he wants fiercely to give himself to Yusuf completely, to have their bodies joined as intimately as they can be. Left to his own devices, he could go on twisting on the hook of his indecision, but Yusuf pulls back to look at him with eager, hopeful eyes, and Nicolo takes a deep breath. 

"You would take me inside you?" he asks, cupping Yusuf's face in his hands. "You want that?"

Yusuf leans his forehead against Nicolo’s. “Nicolo, _yes_. So much.” He kisses him, then asks, “You know what to do?”

“I think so,” Nicolo says. “But—you must tell me if it feels wrong, if it hurts. Promise me, Yusuf.”

It’s strange to remember how recently he could and did hurt Yusuf without a second thought, when he cannot bear the thought of causing him any pain now.

“I will,” Yusuf tells him, and, “I trust you.”

Nicolo embraces him tightly, burying his face in Yusuf’s curls and kissing the side of his head.

They linger in the stream a while longer, and by the time they wade back to shore the sun is low on the horizon. They don’t bother dressing while Nicolo quickly kindles a fire and Yusuf gets the oil from his pack and spreads their bedrolls out, so by the time they slip between the blankets they’re both shivering. Yusuf pulls Nicolo close and rubs his arms; Nicolo nestles gratefully into his warmth, then lifts his head for a kiss.

The kiss starts soft and gentle but quickly deepens, Yusuf licking into Nicolo’s mouth as Nicolo opens for him eagerly. He tugs Yusuf closer by the hips and slots a leg between his, making him moan and grind against Nicolo’s thigh.

“That’s it,” Nicolo murmurs to him. He slides one hand up Yusuf’s torso, fingers trailing through his chest hair and teasing his nipples. “Let me make you feel good, let me take care of you.”

Yusuf buries his face in the curve of Nicolo’s neck with a needy sound. “You are. You do. You’re so good to me, Nico.“

Nicolo kisses him again, then pulls back and guides him onto one side. He flattens his palm against the middle of Yusuf’s back, feeling the tense and flex of his muscles, then kisses between his shoulder blades as he reaches for the oil.

He pours out far too much, making him swear under his breath and cup his hand to try and keep it from running everywhere. Yusuf cranes his neck to look over his shoulder.

“Is all well back there?” he asks with a trace of amusement.

“I suppose too much is better than too little,” Nicolo answers with a wry smile. He rubs the oil over his hand, feeling it warm to his touch, then brings his slick fingers to the cleft of Yusuf’s ass.

Nicolo touches him gently at first, the way they’ve done before. The oil makes it far easier when he presses in, but he still goes slow and careful, marveling at the way Yusuf’s body opens up for him. Yusuf rocks against his hand, little gasps and cries escaping him.

When the movement of his fingers is a sweet, easy glide, Nicolo kisses the space behind his ear and whispers, “Are you ready for me?”

“Please,” Yusuf replies, twisting until he can mouth at the line of Nicolo’s jaw. “I want you so badly, _please_ —“

Sinking into the tight heat of Yusuf’s body is unlike anything Nicolo’s ever felt before. He presses his forehead to Yusuf’s shoulder and wraps an arm around him, and Yusuf’s hand closes over his forearm and grips tight. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Nicolo breathes out, kissing the warm skin of his shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t have the words for it,” Yusuf answers, a hitch in his voice. “But—good. So good. Can you move?” 

Nicolo nods and rolls his hips, gently at first but building to a steady rhythm. He scatters kisses over Yusuf’s shoulder, pants against the side of his neck, nips at his earlobe. Yusuf whispers encouragement, moving his hand down to cover Nicolo’s, and Nicolo spreads his fingers to let Yusuf lace his between them. 

Nicolo works his other hand around Yusuf’s body to find his cock, curving up against his belly. Yusuf moans, cock sliding through Nicolo’s grip as he rocks forward into the touch and then back to meet Nicolo’s thrusts. Nicolo barely has to move his hand, just letting Yusuf fuck in and out of his fist.

Pushing in deep, Nicolo hits a spot that makes Yusuf arch his back and cry out. The reaction’s so instant and intense that for half a moment Nicolo fears he’s hurt him, but then Yusuf gasps out “There, again,” so Nicolo grips him tight and does as he asks.

Yusuf tenses suddenly, breath catching on a sharp moan, and then jerks in Nicolo’s grip, spilling into his hand as Nicolo strokes him through it. His thrusts slow until they almost stop, until Yusuf squeezes their joined hands. 

“Don’t stop,” he says, voice rough. “Let me feel you.” 

Nicolo buries his face in Yusuf’s hair and obeys, rocking into him until his hips stutter and he comes hard inside Yusuf, filling him up. 

They lie for a long while afterward, bodies still joined. Yusuf twists and cranes his neck to seek Nicolo’s mouth, and Nicolo gathers him close and kisses him softly.

Yusuf nuzzles him gently, taps Nicolo’s fingers with his own, still laced together. “We fit together so well,” he says with something like wonder in his voice. “It’s like—“

“Like we were made for each other,” Nicolo finishes.

Were they not who they are, it might seem absurd and fanciful, especially when both of them have so little previous experience in the ways of love, so little basis for comparison. But they are who they are—bound together by their inability to die, sharing the same dreams and the same need to make sense of what’s happened to them. Perhaps it’s not so strange to think their becoming lovers was as destined as their finding one another on the battlefield.

Nicolo's still musing quietly on that when Yusuf stirs, tapping his arm. 

"We should wash again before we sleep," he says, and Nicolo groans at the thought of leaving their warm blanket cocoon and going back into the cold stream. He tries to reel Yusuf back in and keep him from pulling away, but Yusuf chuckles and disengages himself. "Come on, the sooner we do it, the sooner we'll be back here holding each other again."

"You make a good point," Nicolo concedes, and lets him go, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> To azephirin--hope you enjoyed the fic! A few things you mentioned in your request got my wheels turning here, namely different forms of intimacy, devirginization, and two toppy people figuring out their sexual dynamic. I started thinking about all the different things Joe and Nicky could have had a first time doing together--first kiss, first time sleeping together, and their first times doing various sex stuff and how those might play out if they were both virgins, but both had at least _some_ idea what they were doing. Thanks for the inspiration, and again, hope you enjoyed it. <3
> 
> To the mods--thanks so much for running this exchange! It's been great to be a part of and I can't wait to read everyone else's fics.


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